81012.1830
Immediately following In a Heartbeat
-=Sickbay, USS Serendipity=-
Dane couldn't believe it, but he felt like a new man.
Keiran had shown that he was more forgiving than Dane had ever imagined he could be, and he didn't intend on wasting a bit of the man's faith in him. From now on, he was going to do what it took to straighten up, fly right, and do his best to become more like him.
And, even though he hated to admit it to himself, more like TC Blane.
Blane's concern for him had been lost on him until now, but Dane had come to understand just how lucky he was to have not one, but two men aboard ship who had cared enough about his sorry, irresponsible ass to try to pull him out of the fire on more than one occasion.
Then, there was her.
Dane had no idea what he was going to say to her, the next time he saw her.
He couldn't even begin to imagine how long it would take before he could forget the look on Zanh's face when she found him with that letter in his hands. Part of him hoped, as painful as it was, that he'd never forget. Because as long as he remembered it this clearly, it was highly unlikely he would ever do anything to hazard putting that look back upon her face again.
He poked his head in through the curtain, seeking out the younger O'Sullivan now.
"Hey," Dane called softly. He noted that Carrick seemed free to talk, given that his current pastime was lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "How are you?"
"I wish people would quit askin' me that, la."
"Mind if I come in a minute?"
Carrick shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Dane moved to his bedside. "They've unhooked you from all the machinery. I guess that's a good sign right?" He looked Carrick over carefully. "You look a damn sight better than you did when we found you."
"When you found me, you mean." Carrick corrected. "You're the one who carried me out, no? Seems to me I ought to be buyin' you a beer at some point."
"I was just part of the team,"
"Sounds like I'll be buyin' a whole round, then."
Dane intentionally changed the subject. "Your father, he sure is glad to see that you're going to be okay."
Carrick's blue eyes turned to stone. "You know him so well, do ya? Well enough to know what he'd be glad about?"
"Yeah," Dane felt his hackles rising. "I do, actually. I know him pretty well. He has done a lot for me, and I owe him."
"That why you came after me? 'Cause you owed him something?"
"No, and Jesus Christ, do you have to be so," Dane blurted, not even realizing until he'd said it that he could be looking at, and talking to, an only slightly younger version of himself. Looking at a mirror image of his own previous attitude, he was forced to admit to himself how obnoxious such disinterest and self-centeredness really was.
"So what? Have ya got some kind'a problem with me, Cristiane?"
"Yes I do." Dane declared clearly. "Your father is a good man, and you're giving him hell. You ought to be grateful he gives a damn about what happens to you."
Carrick sat up, holding his hand toward Dane to silence him. "Hold up there, you. You've no idea what you're talkin' about, so you'd best be mindin' your own business before you say something that you'll regret."
"If I don't say something, I'll regret it, O'Sullivan. So you're going to shut your fricking mouth for a second and you're going to listen to me, got it?"
On the other side of the curtain, T'Dara's hand reached up, ready to pull the material back and intervene, but Dr. McKay stopped her. He shook his head, and indicated they should wait a moment, and just listen. This was quite a fascinating turn of events, in McKay's opinion; Dane Cristiane, lecturing someone else about their bad attitude.
Carrick folded his arms, silently fuming as Dane went on.
"Your father cares about you. He cares about everyone. You've no right to treat him like he's,"
"You've no bloody right to tell me how to treat him!" Carrick raised his voice even louder. "You don't know! He abandoned us. He ran off to be this hero for Starfleet, traveling through time and space but what good did it do for our family? What good did it do for me?"
"It doesn't always have to be about you!" Dane shouted back. "At least you grew up with one parent and a home where you were loved. Even if your mother did have an agenda and believe me, from what I've seen, she succeeded at it. She wanted to keep Keiran out of your life, and look. Even though she's dead and gone, she's still between you." Dane shook his head.
"Your father is a good man, and he has busted his ass for decades trying to make a better life for other people, including you. If you'd read any of his letters,"
"How the hell does everybody know about the feckin' letters but me!" Carrick exclaimed, pounding his fist against the bed.
"Because we listen when he talks. You should try it sometime."
Carrick continued to pout. "What do you know about family troubles an'away? You officer types, come from great families, born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You don't know-"
"No, you're the one who doesn't know." Dane interrupted, his tone telling O'Sullivan once and for all that he had better listen. "Shut up."
Dane turned away to gather himself and when he turned back, his complexion was ashen.
"My mother was fourteen when I was born. She didn't know what to do, so she threw me away. Like garbage." He lowered his voice, not wanting everyone in Sickbay to hear. "I went from one welfare home to another, but no one wanted me. When I was twelve I'd finally had enough. I thought I was so smart, I thought I knew everything. I knew nothing."
Carrick's expression changed, as he remembered how naive he'd been when he ran away, thinking he'd be fine on his own at sixteen.
"I had to do anything and everything to survive, and I am not proud of it." Dane continued. "But I did survive, and someone saw me and offered me a hand up. I took it, but I didn't appreciate it, and I screwed up. Big time." He sighed.
"I got thrown out of the program. They were going to kick me to the curb, but Zanh Liis intervened. She brought me here, and your father," Dane stared at Carrick directly. "Your father was the first man I ever met who gave a damn, not only whether I lived or died, but whether I amounted to anything."
Carrick continued to sulk in silence.
"Even though I kept on making mistakes, monumental, idiotic mistakes, he still cares whether or not I amount to anything. Even after all he's been through himself, all he's lost, all he's suffered. He still cares about other people more than himself." He narrowed his eyes. "You could learn a lot from that."
"F*ck you."
"You think you can intimidate me?" Dane got up into his face, grasping hold of him by the front of his hospital gown. "Tell you what. You give it about a year, and when you're eighteen if you're still this pissed at me for telling you what you don't want to hear, you come find me and we'll settle this. Until then, SHUT UP." Dane roared.
"Your father deserves better than you're giving him, and you will hate yourself later if you don't realize that now. You can't realize it if no one tells you. So I'm telling you. Quit trying to make him suffer and look at him. Really look at him."
He released Carrick and walked away, turning his back to him. "Maybe you can't see him through all the hate your mother put into your head, but I can see him just fine and so I'll tell you that I would do anything to trade childhoods with you and have that man as my father."
Carrick thought back to the visions of his father's funeral, and the look that had been on Cristiane's face as they carried Keiran's coffin out of the church.
"Easy for you to say, you didn't live my childhood." He spoke at last, thinking Dane was finally done.
"No, I didn't," Dane admitted, moving toward the curtain to go. "But I bet if you knew what mine was really like, you'd understand why I'd be willing to take the chance on yours."
Dane ripped the curtain back, revealing a startled LMH and one serenely calm Vulcan nurse.
"Well hi." McKay offered.
"Hi." Dane frowned.
"Cristiane!" Carrick called, and Dane stopped but did not look back. "What about your own father? Is he still alive out there, somewhere?"
"I don't know. I don't even know his name, and I don't think my mother did either."
Ensign Dane Cristiane
Communications Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012